The weakness of Lady Byron's position is_Byron: The Last Phase

dated January 29, 1820:

'My information previous to my separation was derived either directly

from Lord Byron, or from my observations on that part of his conduct

which he exposed to my view. The infatuation of pride may have blinded

him to the conclusions which must inevitably be established by a long

series of circumstantial evidences.'

Oh, the pity of it all! There was something demoniacal in Byron's

treatment of this excellent woman. Perhaps it was all very natural under

the circumstances. Lady Byron seemed to invite attack at every conceivable

moment, and did not realize that a wounded tiger is always dangerous. This

is the way in which she spoke of Augusta to Colonel Doyle:

'Reluctant as I have ever been to bring my domestic concerns before

the public, and anxious as I have felt _to save from ruin a near

connection of his_, I shall feel myself compelled by duties of primary

importance, if he perseveres in accumulating injuries upon me, to make

a disclosure of the past in the _most_ authentic form.'

Lady Byron's grandiloquent phrase had no deeper meaning than this: that

she was willing to accuse Augusta Leigh on the strength of 'a long series

of circumstantial evidences.' We leave it for lawyers to say whether that

charge could have been substantiated in the event of Mrs. Leigh's absolute

denial, and her disclosure of all the circumstances relating to the birth

of Medora.

In the course of the same year (1820) Augusta, having failed to induce

Lady Byron to make a definite statement as to her intentions with regard

to the Leigh children, urged Byron to intercede with his wife in their

interests. He accordingly wrote several times to Lady Byron, asking her to

be kind to Augusta--in other words, to make some provision for her

children. It seemed, under all circumstances, a strange request to make,

but Byron's reasons were sound. In accordance with the restrictions

imposed by his marriage settlement, the available portion of the funds

would revert to Lady Byron in the event of his predeceasing her. Lady

Byron at first made no promise to befriend Augusta's children; but later

she wrote to say that the past would not prevent her from befriending

Augusta Leigh and her children 'in any future circumstances which may call

for my assistance.'

In thanking Lady Byron for this promise, Byron writes:

'As to Augusta * * * *, whatever she is, or may have been, _you_ have

never had reason to complain of her; on the contrary, you are not

aware of the obligations under which you have been to her. Her life

and mine--and yours and mine--were two things perfectly distinct from

each other; when one ceased the other began, and now both are closed.'

Lord Lovelace seeks to make much out of that statement, and says in

'Astarte':

'It is evident, from the allusion in this letter, that Byron had

become thoroughly aware of the extent of Lady Byron's information, and

did not wish that she should be misled. He probably may have heard

from Augusta herself that she had admitted her own guilt, together

with his, to Lady Byron.'

What _naïveté_! Byron's meaning is perfectly clear. Whatever she was, or

may have been--whatever her virtues or her sins--she had never wronged

Lady Byron. On the contrary, she had, at considerable risk to herself,

interceded for her with her brother, when the crisis came into their

married life. Byron's intercourse with his sister had never borne any

connection with his relations towards his wife--it was a thing apart--and

at the time of writing was closed perhaps for ever. He plainly repudiates

Lady Byron's cruel suspicions of a criminal intercourse having taken place

during the brief period of their married existence. He could not have

spoken in plainer language without indelicacy, and yet, so persistent was

Lady Byron in her evil opinion of both, these simple straightforward words

were wholly misconstrued. Malignant casuistry could of course find a dark

hint in the sentence, 'When one ceased, the other began'; but the mind

must indeed be prurient that could place the worst construction upon the

expression of so palpable a fact. It was not Lady Byron's intention to

complain of things that had taken place _previous_ to her marriage; her

contention had always been that she separated from her husband in

consequence of his conduct while under her own roof. When, in 1869, all

the documentary evidence upon which she relied was shown to Lord Chief

Justice Cockburn, that great lawyer thus expressed his opinion of their

value:

'Lady Byron had an ill-conditioned mind, preying upon itself, till

morbid delusion was the result. If not, she was an accomplished

hypocrite, regardless of truth, and to whose statements no credit

whatever ought to be attached.'

Lord Lovelace tells us that all the charges made against Lady Byron in

1869 (when the Beecher Stowe 'Revelations' were published) would have

collapsed 'if all her papers had then been accessible and available'; and

that Dr. Lushington, who was then alive, 'from the best and kindest

motives, and long habit of silence,' exerted his influence over the other

trustees to suppress them! Why, we may ask, was this? The answer suggests

itself. It was because he well knew that there was nothing in those papers

to fix guilt upon Mrs. Leigh. It must not be forgotten that Dr.

Lushington, in 1816, expressed his deliberate opinion that the proofs were

wholly insufficient to sustain a charge of incest. In this connection Lady

Byron's written statement, dated March 14, 1816, is most valuable.

'The causes of this suspicion,' she writes, 'did not amount to proof

... and I considered that, whilst a possibility of innocence existed,

every principle of duty and humanity forbade me to act as if Mrs.

Leigh was actually guilty, more especially as any intimation of so

heinous a crime, even if not distinctly proved, must have seriously

affected Mrs. Leigh's character and happiness.'

Exactly one month after Lady Byron had written those words, her husband

addressed her in the following terms:

'I have just parted from Augusta--almost the last being you had left

me to part with, and the only unshattered tie of my existence.

Wherever I may go, and I am going far, you and I can never meet again

in this world, nor in the next. Let this content or atone. If any

accident occurs to me, be kind to _her_; if she is then nothing, to

her children.'

It was, as we have seen, five years before Lady Byron could bring herself

to make any reply to this appeal. How far she fulfilled the promise then

made, 'to befriend Augusta Leigh and her children in any future

circumstances which might call for her assistance,' may be left to the

imagination of the reader. We can find no evidence of it in 'Astarte' or

in the 'Revelations' of Mrs. Beecher Stowe.

CHAPTER VI

In order to meet the charges which the late Lord Lovelace brought against

Mrs. Leigh in 'Astarte,' we have been compelled to quote rather

extensively from its pages. In the chapter entitled 'Manfred' will be

found selections from a mass of correspondence which, without

qualification or comment, might go far to convince the reader. Lord

Lovelace was evidently 'a good hater,' and he detested the very name of

Augusta Leigh with all his heart and soul. There was some reason for this.

She had, in Lord Lovelace's opinion, '_substituted herself for Lord

Byron's right heirs_' ('Astarte,' p. 125). It was evidently a sore point

that Augusta should have benefited by Lord Byron's will. Lord Lovelace

forgot that Lady Byron had approved of the terms of her husband's will,

and that Lady Byron's conduct had not been such as to deserve any

pecuniary consideration at Lord Byron's death. But impartiality does not

seem to have been Lord Lovelace's forte. Having made up his mind that Mrs.

Leigh was guilty, he selected from his papers whatever might appear most

likely to convict her. But the violence of his antagonism has impaired the

value of his contention; and the effect of his arguments is very different

from that which he intended. Having satisfied himself that Mrs. Leigh

(though liked and respected by her contemporaries) was an abandoned

woman, Lord Lovelace says:

'A real reformation, according to Christian ideals, would not merely

have driven Byron and Augusta apart from each other, but expelled them

from the world of wickedness, consigned them for the rest of their

lives to strict expiation and holiness. But this could never be; and

in the long-run her flight to an outcast life would have been a lesser

evil than the consequences of preventing it. The fall of Mrs. Leigh

would have been a definite catastrophe, affecting a small number of

people for a time in a startling manner. The disaster would have been

obvious, but partial, immediately over and ended.... She would have

lived in open revolt against the Christian standard, not in secret

disobedience and unrepentant hypocrisy.'

Poor Mrs. Leigh! and was it so bad as all that? Had she committed incest

with her brother after the separation of 1816? Did she follow Byron abroad

'in the dress of a page,' as stated by some lying chronicler from the

banks of the Lake of Geneva? Did Byron come to England in secret at some

period between 1816 and 1824? If not, what on earth is the meaning of this

mysterious homily? Does Lord Lovelace, in the book that survives him, wish

the world to believe that Lady Byron prevented Augusta from deserting her

husband and children, and flying into Byron's arms in a 'far countree'? If

that was the author's intention, he has signally failed. There never was a

moment, since the trip abroad was abandoned in 1813, when Augusta had the

mind to join her brother in his travels. There is not a hint of any such

wish in any document published up to the present time. Augusta, who was

undoubtedly innocent, had suffered enough from the lying reports that had

been spread about town by Lady Caroline Lamb, ever to wish for another

dose of scandal. If the Lovelace papers contain any hint of that nature,

the author of 'Astarte' would most assuredly have set it forth in Double

Pica. It is a baseless calumny.

In Lord Lovelace's opinion,

'judged by the light of nature, a heroism and sincerity of united

fates and doom would have seemed, beyond all comparison, purer and

nobler than what they actually drifted into. By the social code, sin

between man and woman can never be blotted out, as assuredly it is the

most irreversible of facts. Nevertheless, societies secretly respect,

though they excommunicate, those rebel lovers who sacrifice everything

else, but observe a law of their own, and make a religion out of sin

itself, by living it through with constancy.'

These be perilous doctrines, surely! But how do those reflections apply to

the case of Byron and his sister? The hypothesis may be something like

this: Byron and his sister commit a deadly sin. They are found out, but

their secret is kept by a select circle of their friends. They part, and

never meet again in this world. The sin might have been forgiven, or at

least condoned, if they had 'observed a law of their own'--in other words,

'gone on sinning.' Why? because 'societies secretly respect rebel lovers.'

But these wretches had not the courage of their profligacy; they parted

and sinned no more, therefore they were 'unrepentant hypocrites.' The

'heroism and sincerity of united fates and doom' was denied to them, and

no one would ever have suspected them of such a crime, if Lady Byron and

Lord Lovelace had not betrayed them. What pestilential rubbish! One

wonders how a man of Lord Lovelace's undoubted ability could have sunk to

bathos of that kind.

'Byron,' he tells us, 'was ready to sacrifice everything for Augusta,

and to defy the world with her. If this _had not been prevented_ [the

italics are ours], _he would have been a more poetical figure in

history_ than as the author of "Manfred."'

It is clear, then, that in Lord Lovelace's opinion Byron and Augusta were

prevented by someone from becoming poetical figures. Who was that guardian

angel? Lady Byron, of course!

Now, what are the facts? Byron parted from his sister on April 14, 1816,

_nine days prior to his own departure from London_. They never met again.

There was nothing to 'prevent' them from being together up to the last

moment if they had felt so disposed. Byron never disguised his deep and

lasting affection for Augusta, whom in private he called his 'Dear Goose,'

and in public his 'Sweet Sister.' There was no hypocrisy on either

side--nothing, in short, except the prurient imagination of a distracted

wife, aided and abetted by a circle of fawning gossips.

It is a lamentable example of how public opinion may be misdirected by

evidence, which Horace would have called _Parthis mendacior_.

Lord Lovelace comforts himself by the reflection that Augusta

'was not spared misery or degradation by being preserved from flagrant

acts; for nothing could be more wretched than her subsequent

existence; and far from growing virtuous, she went farther down

without end temporally and spiritually.'

Now, that is very strange! How could Augusta have gone farther down

spiritually after Byron's departure? According to Lord Lovelace,

'Character regained was the consummation of Mrs. Leigh's ruin!'

Mrs. Leigh must have been totally unlike anyone else, if character

regained proved her ruin. There must be some mistake. No, there it is in

black and white. 'Her return to outward respectability was an unmixed

misfortune to the third person through whose protection it was possible.'

This cryptic utterance implies that Mrs. Leigh's respectability was

injurious to Lady Byron. Why?

'If Augusta had fled to Byron in exile, and was seen with him as _et

soror et conjux_, the victory remained with Lady Byron, solid and

final. _This was the solution hoped for by Lady Byron's friends_,

Lushington and Doyle, as well as Lady Noel.'

So the cat is out of the bag at last! It having been impossible for Lady

Byron to bring any proof against Byron and his sister which would have

held water in a law-court, her friends and her legal adviser hoped that

Augusta would desert her husband and children, and thus furnish them with

evidence which would justify their conduct before the world. But Augusta

was sorry not to be able to oblige them. This was a pity, because,

according to Lord Lovelace, who was the most ingenuous of men: 'Their

triumph and Lady Byron's justification would have been complete, and great

would have been their rejoicing.'

Well, they made up for it afterwards, when Byron and Augusta were dead;

after those memoirs had been destroyed which, in Byron's words, 'will be a

kind of guide-post in case of death, and prevent some of the lies which

would otherwise be told, and destroy some which have been told already.'

In allusion to the meetings between Lady Byron and Augusta immediately

after the separation, we are told in 'Astarte' that

'on all these occasions, one subject--uppermost in the thoughts of

both--had been virtually ignored, except that Augusta _had had the

audacity_ to name the reports about herself with all the pride of

innocence. _Intercourse could not continue on that footing_, for

Augusta probably aimed at a positive guarantee of her innocence, and

at committing Lady Byron irretrievably to that.'

This was great presumption on Mrs. Leigh's part, after all the pains they

had taken to make her uncomfortable. Lady Byron, we are told by Lord

Lovelace, could no longer bear the false position, and 'before leaving

London she went to the Hon. Mrs. Villiers--a most intimate friend of

Augusta's'--and deliberately poisoned her mind. That which she told Mrs.

Villiers is not stated; but we infer that Lady Byron retailed some of the

gossip that had reached her through one of Mrs. Leigh's servants who had

overheard part of a conversation between Augusta and Byron shortly after

Medora's birth. After the child had been taken to St. James's Palace,

Byron often went there. It is likely that Augusta had been overheard

jesting with Byron about his child. We cannot be sure of this; but, at any

rate, some such expression, if whispered in Lady Byron's ears, would be

sufficient to confirm her erroneous belief.

Mrs. Villiers, we are told, began from this time to be slightly prejudiced

against Augusta. She believed her to be absolutely pure, but with lax

notions of morality. This sounds like a contradiction in terms, but so it

was; and through the wilful misrepresentation of Lady Byron and her

coterie, Augusta's best friend was lured from her allegiance. Mrs.

Villiers was also informed of something else by Wilmot-Horton, another

friend of Lady Byron's. The plot thickened, and, without any attempt being

made to arrive at the truth, Augusta's life became almost unbearable. No

wonder the poor woman said in her agony: 'None can know _how much_ I have

suffered from this unhappy business, and, indeed, I have never known a

moment's peace, and begin to despair for the future.'

The 'unhappy business' was, of course, her unwise adoption of Medora.

Through that error of judgment she was doomed to plod her way to the

grave, suspected by even her dearest friend, and persecuted by the Byron

family. Mrs. Villiers was a good woman and scented treason. She boldly

urged Lady Byron to avow to Augusta the information of which she was in

possession. But Lady Byron was at first afraid to run the risk. She knew

very well the value of servants' gossip, and feared the open hostility of

Augusta if she made common cause with Byron. This much she ingenuously

avowed in a letter to Dr. Lushington. But, upon being further pressed, she

consented to _write_ to Augusta and announce what she had been told. We

have no doubt that the letter was written with great care, after

consultation with Colonel Doyle and Lushington, and that the gossip was

retailed with every outward consideration for Augusta's feelings. Whatever

was said, and there is no evidence of it in 'Astarte,' we are there told

that 'Augusta did not attempt to deny it, and, in fact, admitted

everything in subsequent letters to Lady Byron during the summer of 1816.'

Lord Lovelace ingenuously adds: 'It is unnecessary to produce them here,

as their contents are confirmed and made sufficiently clear by the

correspondence of 1819, in another chapter.'

It is very strange that Lord Lovelace, who is not thrifty in his

selections, should have withheld the only positive proof of Augusta's

confession known to be in existence. His reference to the letters of 1819,

which he publishes, is a poor substitute for the letters themselves. The

only letter which affords any clue to the mystery is the 'Dearest Love'

letter, dated May 17, 1819, which we have quoted in a previous chapter.

The value of that letter, as evidence against Augusta, we have already

shown. When compared with the letter which Byron wrote to his sister on

June 3, 1817--a year after he had parted from her--the conclusion that the

incriminating letter is not addressed to Augusta at all, forces itself

irresistibly upon the mind. As an example of varying moods, it is worth

quoting:

'For the life of me I can't make out whether your disorder is a broken

heart or ear-ache--or whether it is you that have been ill or the

children--or what your melancholy and mysterious apprehensions tend

to--or refer to--whether to Caroline Lamb's novels--Mrs. Clermont's

evidence--Lady Byron's magnanimity, or any other piece of imposture.'

It is really laughable to suppose that the writer of the above extract

could have written to the same lady two years later in the following

strain:

'My dearest love, I have never ceased, nor can cease, to feel for a

moment that perfect and boundless attachment which bound and binds me

to you--which renders me utterly incapable of _real_ love for any

other human being--for what could they be to me after _you_? My own

* * * * we may have been very wrong,' etc.

But Lord Lovelace found no difficulty in believing that the letter in

question sealed the fate of Augusta Leigh. In the face of such a

document, Lord Lovelace thought that a direct confession in Augusta's

handwriting would be superfluous, and Sir Leslie Stephen had warned him

against superfluity!

Colonel Doyle, an intimate friend of Lady Byron, seems to have been the

only man on her side of the question--not even excepting Lushington--who

showed anything approaching to common sense. He perceived that Lady Byron,

by avowing the grounds of her suspicions to Mrs. Leigh, had placed herself

in an awkward position. He foresaw that this avowal would turn Mrs. Leigh

into an enemy, who must sooner or later avenge the insults heaped upon

her. On July 9, 1816, Colonel Doyle wrote to Lady Byron:

'Your feelings I perfectly understand; I will even _whisper_ to you I

approve. But you must remember that your position is very

extraordinary, and though, when we have sufficiently deliberated and

_decided_, we should pursue our course without embarrassing ourselves

with the consequences; yet we should _not neglect the means of fully

justifying ourselves_ if the necessity be ever imposed upon us.'

We have quoted enough to show that, _five months after the separation was

formally proposed to Lord Byron_, they had not sufficient evidence to

bring into a court of law. Under those depressing circumstances Lady Byron

was urged to induce Augusta to 'confess'; the conspirators would have been

grateful even for an admission of guilt as _prior to Lord Byron's

marriage_!

Colonel Doyle, as a man of honour, did not wish Lady Byron to rely upon

'confessions' made under the seal of secrecy. They had, apparently, been

duped on a previous occasion; and, in case Mrs. Leigh were to bring an

action against Lady Byron for defamation of character, it would not be

advisable to rely, for her defence, upon letters which were strictly

private and confidential. As to Augusta's 'admissions,' made orally and

without witnesses, they were absolutely valueless--especially as the

conditions under which they were made could not in honour be broken.

Augusta through all this worry fell into a state of deep dejection. She

had been accused of a crime which (though innocent) she had tacitly

admitted. Her friends were beginning to look coldly upon her, and

consequently her position became tenfold more difficult and

'extraordinary' than that of her accuser. Perhaps she came to realize the

truth of Dryden's lines:

'Smooth the descent and easy is the way;

But to return, and view the cheerful skies,

In this the task and mighty labour lies.'

Equivocation is a dangerous game.

Lord Lovelace tells us that all the papers concerning the marriage of Lord

and Lady Byron have been carefully preserved. 'They are a complete record

of all the causes of separation, and contain full information on every

part of the subject.'

We can only say that it is a pity Lord Lovelace should have withheld those

which were most likely to prove his case--for example, the letters which

Mrs. Leigh wrote to Lady Byron in the summer of 1816. The public have a

right to demand from an accuser the grounds of his accusation. Lord

Lovelace gives us none. He bids us listen to what he deigns to tell us,

and to ask for nothing more. That his case is built upon Lady Byron's

surmises, and upon no more solid foundation, is shown by the following

illuminating extract from 'Astarte':

'When a woman is placed as Lady Byron was, her mind works

involuntarily, almost unconsciously, and conclusions force their way

into it. She has not meant to think so and so, and she has thought it;

the dreadful idea is repelled then, and to the last, with the whole

force of her will, but when once conceived it cannot be banished. The

distinctive features of a true hypothesis, when once in the mind, are

a precise conformity to facts already known, and an adaptability to

fresh developments, which allow us not to throw it aside at pleasure.

Lady Byron's agony of doubt could only end in the still greater agony

of certainty; but this was no result of ingenuity or inquiry, as she

sought not for information.'

If Lady Byron did not seek for information when she plied Augusta with

questions, and encouraged her friends to do the same, she must have

derived pleasure from torturing her supposed rival. But that is absurd.

'Women,' says Lord Lovelace, 'are said to excel in piecing together

scattered insignificant fragments of conversations and circumstances,

and fitting them all into their right places amongst what they know

already, and thus reconstruct a whole that is very close to the

complete truth. But Lady Byron's whole effort was to resist the light,

or rather the darkness, that would flow into her mind.'

In her effort to resist the light, Lady Byron seems to have admirably

succeeded. But, in spite of her grandson's statement, that she employed

any great effort to resist the darkness that flowed into her mind we

entirely disbelieve. We are rather inclined to think that, in her search

for evidence to convict Mrs. Leigh, she would have been very grateful for

a farthing rushlight.

We now leave 'Astarte' to the judgment of posterity, for whom, in a

peculiarly cruel sense, it was originally intended. If in a court of law

counsel for the prosecution were to declaim loudly and frequently about

evidence which he does not--perhaps dares not--produce, his harangues

would make an unfavourable impression on a British jury. We have no wish

to speak ill of the dead, but, in justice to Mrs. Leigh, we feel bound to

say that the author of 'Astarte,' with all his talk about evidence against

Byron and Augusta Leigh, has not produced a scrap of evidence which would

have any weight with an impartial jury of their countrymen.

But we will not end upon a jarring note. Let us remember that Lord

Lovelace, as Ada's son, felt an affectionate regard for the memory of Lady

Byron. It was his misfortune to imbibe a false tradition, and, while

groping his way through the darkness, his sole guide was a packet of

collected papers by which his grandmother hoped to justify her conduct in

leaving her husband. If Lady Byron had deigned to read Byron's 'Memoirs,'

she might have been spared those painful delusions by which her mind was

obsessed in later years. That she had ample grounds, in Byron's

extraordinary conduct during the brief period of their intercourse, to

separate herself from him is not disputed; but her premises were wrong,

and her vain attempt to justify herself by unsupported accusations against

Mrs. Leigh has failed.

Her daughter Ada, the mother of Lord Lovelace, had learnt enough of the

family history to come to the conclusion (which she decidedly expressed to

Mr. Fonblanque) that the sole cause of the separation was incompatibility.

There let it rest. The Byron of the last phase was a very different man

from the poet of 'The Dream.'

On the day that Byron was buried at Hucknall-Torkard the great Goethe, in

allusion to a letter which Byron, on the eve of his departure for Greece,

had written to him, says:

'What emotions of joy and hope did not that paper once excite! But now

it has become, by the premature death of its noble writer, an

inestimable relic and a source of unspeakable regret; for it

aggravates, to a peculiar degree in me, the mourning and melancholy

that pervade the moral and poetic world. In me, who looked forward

(after the success of his great efforts) to the prospect of being

blessed with the sight of this master-spirit of the age, this friend

so fortunately acquired; and of having to welcome on his return the

most humane of conquerors.

'But I am consoled by the conviction that his country will at once

_awake_, and shake off, like a troubled dream, the partialities, the

prejudices, the injuries, and the calumnies, with which he has been

assailed; and that these will subside and sink into oblivion; and that

she will at length acknowledge that his frailties, whether the effect

of temperament, or the defect of the times in which he lived (against

which even the best of mortals wrestle painfully), were only

momentary, fleeting, and transitory; whilst the imperishable greatness

to which he has raised her, now and for ever remains, and will remain,

illimitable in its glory and incalculable in its consequences. Certain

it is that a nation, who may well pride herself on so many great sons,

will place Byron, all radiant as he is, by the side of those who have

done most honour to her name.'

With these just words it is fitting to draw our subject to a close. The

poetic fame of Byron has passed through several phases, and will probably

pass through another before his exact position in the poetical hierarchy

is determined. But the world's interest in the man who cheerfully gave his

life to the cause of Greek Independence has not declined. Eighty-five

years have passed, and Time has gradually fulfilled the prophecy which

inspiration wrung from the anguish of his heart:

'But I have lived, and have not lived in vain:

My mind may lose its force, my blood its fire,

And my frame perish even in conquering pain;

But there is that within me which shall tire

Torture and Time, and breathe when I expire;

Something unearthly, which they deem not of,

Like the remembered tone of a mute lyre,

Shall on their softened spirits sink, and move

In hearts all rocky now the late remorse of Love.'

APPENDIX

DR. BRUNO'S REPLY TO FLETCHER'S STATEMENT

The following remarks appeared in the _Westminster Review_, and gave great

annoyance to Dr. Millingen, who thought that he had been accused of having

caused the death of Byron by putting off, during four successive days, the

operation of bleeding:

Mr. Fletcher has omitted to state that on the second day of Lord

Byron's illness his physician, Dr. Bruno, seeing the sudorific

medicines had no effect, proposed blood-letting, and that his lordship

refused to allow it, and caused Mr. Millingen to be sent for in order

to consult with his physician, and see if the rheumatic fever could

not be cured without the loss of blood.

Mr. Millingen approved of the medicines previously prescribed by Dr.

Bruno, and was not opposed to the opinion that bleeding was necessary;

but he said to his lordship that it might be deferred till the next

day. He held this language for three successive days, while the other

physician (Dr. Bruno) every day threatened Lord Byron that he would

die by his obstinacy in not allowing himself to be bled. His lordship

always answered: 'You wish to get the reputation of curing my disease,

that is why you tell me it is so serious; but I will not permit you to

bleed me.'

After the first consultation with Mr. Millingen, the domestic Fletcher

asked Dr. Bruno how his lordship's complaint was going on. The

physician replied that, if he would allow the bleeding, he would be

cured in a few days. But the surgeon Mr. Millingen, assured Lord Byron

from day to day that it could wait till to-morrow; and thus four days

slipped away, during which the disease, for want of blood-letting,

grew much worse. At length Mr. Millingen, seeing that the

prognostications which Dr. Bruno had made respecting Lord Byron's

malady were more and more confirmed, urged the necessity of bleeding,

and of no longer delaying it a moment. This caused Lord Byron,

disgusted at finding that he could not be cured without loss of blood,

to say that it seemed to him that the doctors did not understand his

malady. He then had a man sent to Zante to fetch Dr. Thomas. Mr.

Fletcher having mentioned this to Dr. Bruno, the latter observed that,

if his lordship would consent to lose as much blood as was necessary,

he would answer for his cure; but that if he delayed any longer, or

did not entirely follow his advice, Dr. Thomas would not arrive in

time: in fact, when Dr. Thomas was ready to set out from Zante, Lord

Byron was dead.

The pistols and stiletto were removed from his lordship's bed--not by

Fletcher, but by the servant Tita, who was the only person that

constantly waited on Lord Byron in his illness, and who had been

advised to take this precaution by Dr. Bruno, the latter having

perceived that my lord had moments of delirium.

Two days before the death a consultation was held with three other

doctors, who appeared to think that his lordship's disease was

changing from inflammatory diathesis to languid, and they ordered

china,[78] opium, and ammonia.

Dr. Bruno opposed this with the greatest warmth, and pointed out to

them that the symptoms were those, not of an alteration in the

disease, but of a fever flying to the brain, which was violently

attacked by it; and that the wine, the china, and the stimulants,

would kill Lord Byron more speedily than the complaint itself could;

while, on the other hand, by copious bleedings and the medicines that

had been taken before he might yet be saved. The other physicians,

however, were of a different opinion; and it was then that Dr. Bruno

declared to his colleagues that he would have no further

responsibility for the loss of Lord Byron, which he pronounced

inevitable if the china were given him. In effect, after my lord had

taken the tincture, with some grains of carbonate of ammonia, he was

seized by convulsions. Soon afterwards they gave him a cup of very

strong decoction of china, with some drops of laudanum. He instantly

fell into a deep lethargic sleep, from which he never rose.

The opening of the body discovered the brain in a state of the highest

inflammation; and all the six physicians who were present at that

opening were convinced that my lord would have been saved by the

bleeding, which his physician, Dr. Bruno, had advised from the

beginning with the most pressing urgency and the greatest firmness.

F. B.

DR. MILLINGEN'S ACCOUNT

Mr. Finlay and myself called upon him in the evening, when we found

him lying on a sofa, complaining of a slight fever and of pains in the

articulations. He was at first more gay than usual; but on a sudden he

became pensive, and, after remaining some few minutes in silence, he

said that during the whole day he had reflected a great deal on a

prediction which had been made to him, when a boy, by a famed

fortune-teller in Scotland. His mother, who firmly believed in

cheiromancy and astrology, had sent for this person, and desired him

to inform her what would be the future destiny of her son. Having

examined attentively the palm of his hand, the man looked at him for a

while steadfastly, and then with a solemn voice exclaimed: 'Beware of

your thirty-seventh year, my young lord--beware!'

He had entered on his thirty-seventh year on the 22nd of January; and

it was evident, from the emotion with which he related this

circumstance, that the caution of the palmist had produced a deep

impression on his mind, which in many respects was so superstitious

that we thought proper to accuse him of superstition. 'To say the

truth,' answered his lordship, 'I find it equally difficult to know

what to believe in this world and what not to believe. There are as

many plausible reasons for inducing me to die a bigot as there have

been to make me hitherto live a freethinker. You will, I know,

ridicule my belief in lucky and unlucky days; but no consideration can

now induce me to undertake anything either on a Friday or a Sunday. I

am positive it would terminate unfortunately. Every one of my

misfortunes--and God knows I have had my share--have happened to me on

one of those days.'

Considering myself on this occasion, not a medical man, but a visitor,

and being questioned neither by his physician nor himself, I did not

even feel Lord Byron's pulse. I was informed next morning that during

the night he had taken diaphoretic infusions, and that he felt himself

better. The next day Dr. Bruno administered a purgative, and kept up

its effects by a solution of cream of tartar, which the Italians call

'imperial lemonade.' In the evening the fever augmented, and as on the

14th, although the pains in the articulations had diminished, the

feverish symptoms were equally strong, Dr. Bruno strongly recommended

him to be blooded; but as the patient entertained a deep-rooted

prejudice against bleeding, his physician could obtain no influence

whatever over him, and his lordship obstinately persevered in refusing

to submit to the operation.

On the 15th, towards noon, Fletcher called upon me and informed me

that his master desired to see me, in order to consult with Dr. Bruno

on the state of his health. Dr. Bruno informed me that his patient

laboured under a rheumatic fever--that, as at first the symptoms had

been of a mild character, he had trusted chiefly to sudorifics; but

during the last two days the fever had so much increased that he had

repeatedly proposed bleeding, but that he could not overcome his

lordship's antipathy to that mode of treatment. Convinced, by an

examination of the patient, that bleeding was absolutely necessary, I

endeavoured, as mildly and as gently as possible, to persuade him;

but, in spite of all my caution, his temper was so morbidly irritable

that he refused in a manner excessively peevish. He observed that, of

all his prejudices, the strongest was against phlebotomy. 'Besides,'

said his lordship, 'does not Dr. Reid observe in his Essays that less

slaughter has been effected by the warrior's lance than by the

physician's lancet? It is, in fact, a minute instrument of mighty

mischief.' On my observing that this remark related to the treatment

of nervous disorders, not of inflammatory ones, he angrily replied:

'Who is nervous, if I am not? Do not these words, besides, apply to my

case? Drawing blood from a nervous patient is like loosening the

chords of a musical instrument, the tones of which are already

defective for want of sufficient tension. Before I became ill, you

know yourself how weak and irritable I had become. Bleeding, by

increasing this state, will inevitably kill me. Do with me whatever

else you please, but bleed me you shall not. I have had several

inflammatory fevers during my life, and at an age when I was much more

robust and plethoric than I am now; yet I got through them without

bleeding. This time also I will take my chance.'

After much reasoning and entreaty, however, I at length succeeded in

obtaining a promise that, should his fever increase at night, he would

allow Bruno to bleed him. Happy to inform the doctor of this partial

victory, I left the room, and, with a view of lowering the impetus of

the circulatory system, and determining to the skin, I recommended the

administration of an ounce of a solution of half a grain of tartarized

antimony and two drachms of nitre in twelve ounces of water.

Early the next morning I called on the patient, who told me that,

having passed a better night than he had expected, he had not

requested Dr. Bruno to bleed him. Chagrined at this, I laid aside all

consideration for his feelings, and solemnly assured him how deeply I

lamented to see him trifle with his life in this manner. I told him

that his pertinacious refusal to be bled had caused a precious

opportunity to be lost; that a few hours of hope yet remained; but

that, unless he would submit immediately to be bled, neither Dr. Bruno

nor myself could answer for the consequences. He might not care for

life, it was true; but who could assure him, unless he changed his

resolution, the disease might not operate such disorganization in his

cerebral and nervous system as entirely to deprive him of his reason?

I had now touched the sensible chord, for, partly annoyed by our

unceasing importunities, and partly convinced, casting at us both the

fiercest glance of vexation, he threw out his arm, and said in the

most angry tone: 'Come; you are, I see, a d----d set of butchers. Take

away as much blood as you will, but have done with it.'

We seized the moment, and drew about twenty ounces. On coagulating,

the blood presented a strong buffy coat. Yet the relief obtained did

not correspond to the hopes we had anticipated, and during the night

the fever became stronger than it had been hitherto. The restlessness

and agitation increased, and the patient spoke several times in an

incoherent manner. The next morning (17th) the bleeding was repeated;

for, although the rheumatic symptoms had completely disappeared, the

cerebral ones were hourly increasing, and this continuing all day, we

opened the vein for the third time in the afternoon. Cold applications

were from the beginning constantly kept on the head; blisters were

also proposed. When on the point of applying them, Lord Byron asked me

whether it would answer the same purpose to apply both on the same

leg. Guessing the motive that led him to ask this question, I told him

I would place them above the knees, on the inside of the thighs. 'Do

so,' said he; 'for as long as I live I will not allow anyone to see my

lame foot.'

In spite of our endeavours, the danger hourly increased; the different

signs of strong nervous affection succeeded each other with surprising

rapidity; twitchings and involuntary motions of the tendons began to

manifest themselves in the night; and, more frequently than before,

the patient muttered to himself and talked incoherently.

In the morning (18th) a consultation was proposed, to which Dr. Lucca

Vaga and Dr. Freiber, my assistant, were invited. Our opinions were

divided. Bruno and Lucca proposed having recourse to antispasmodics

and other remedies employed in the last stage of typhus. Freiber and I

maintained that such remedies could only hasten the fatal termination;

that nothing could be more empirical than flying from one extreme to

the other; that if, as we all thought, the complaint was owing to the

metastasis of rheumatic inflammation, the existing symptoms only

depended on the rapid and extensive progress it had made in an organ

previously so weakened and irritable. Antiphlogistic means could never

prove hurtful in this case; they would become useless only if

disorganization were already operated; but then, when all hopes were

fled, what means would not prove superfluous?

We recommended the application of numerous leeches to the temples,

behind the ears, and along the course of the jugular vein, a large

blister between the shoulders, and sinapisms to the feet. These we

considered to be the only means likely to succeed. Dr. Bruno, however,

being the patient's physician, had, of course, the casting vote, and

he prepared, in consequence, the antispasmodic potion which he and Dr.

Lucca had agreed upon. It was a strong infusion of valerian with

ether, etc. After its administration the convulsive movements and the

delirium increased; yet, notwithstanding my earnest representations, a

second dose was administered half an hour after; when, after

articulating confusedly a few broken phrases, our patient sank into a

comatose sleep, which the next day terminated in death.

Lord Byron expired on the 19th of April, at six o'clock in the

afternoon. Interesting as every circumstance relative to the death of

so celebrated a person may prove to some, I should, nevertheless, have

hesitated in obtruding so much medical detail on the patience of the

reader, had not the accounts published by Dr. Bruno in the

_Westminster Review_, and many of the newspapers, rendered it

necessary that I should disabuse the friends of the deceased; and at

the same time vindicate my own professional character, on which the

imputation has been laid of my having been the cause of Lord Byron's

death by putting off, during four successive days, the operation of

bleeding.

I must first observe that, not knowing a syllable of English, although

present at the conversation I had with Lord Byron, Dr. Bruno could

neither understand the force of the language I employed to surmount

his lordship's deep-rooted prejudice and aversion for bleeding, nor

the positive refusals he repeatedly made before I could obtain his

promise to consent to the operation. Yet he boldly states that I spoke

to Lord Byron in a very undecided manner of the benefits of such an

operation, and that I even ventured to recommend procrastination; and

these, he says, are the reasons that induced him to consent to the

delay--as if he were himself indifferent to such treatment, or as if a

few words from me were sufficient to determine him! Conduct like this

it is not difficult to appreciate: I shall therefore forbear

abandoning myself to the indignation such a falsehood might naturally

excite; nor shall I repel his unwarrantable accusation by relating the

causes of that deep-rooted jealousy which Dr. Bruno entertained

against me from the day he perceived the preference which Lord Byron

indicated in favour of English physicians. This narrow-minded, envious

feeling, as I could prove, prevented him from insisting on immediately

calling me, or other medical men at Missolonghi, to a consultation.

Had he done so, he would have exonerated himself from every

responsibility; but his vanity made him forget the duty he owed to his

patient, and even to himself. For I did not see Lord Byron (medically)

till I was sent for by his lordship himself, without any participation

on the part of Dr. Bruno. I can refute Dr. Bruno's calumnies, not only

from the testimony of others, but even from his own. For the following

extract from the article published in the _Telegrapho Greco_,

announcing the death of Lord Byron, was at the request of Count Gamba

(himself a witness of whatever took place during the fatal illness of

his friend) composed by the doctor:

'Notwithstanding the most urgent entreaties and representations of the

imminent danger attending his complaint made to him from the onset of

his illness, both by his private physician and the medical man sent by

the Greek Committee, it was impossible to surmount the great aversion

and prejudice he entertained against bleeding, although he lay under

imperious want of it' (Vide _Telegrapho Greco_, il di 24 Aprile,

1824).

As to the assertion confidently made by Dr. Bruno, that, had his

patient submitted at the onset of his malady to phlebotomy, he would

have infallibly recovered, I believe every medical man who maturely

considers the subject will be led to esteem this assertion as being

founded rather on presumption than on reason. Positive language, which

is in general so misplaced in medical science, becomes in the present

case even ridiculous; for, if different authors be consulted, it will

appear that the very remedy which is proclaimed by some as the anchor

of salvation, is by others condemned as the instrument of ruin.

Bleeding (as many will be found to assert) favours metastasis in

rheumatic fevers; and, in confirmation of this opinion, they will

remark that in this case, as soon as the lancet was employed, the

cerebral symptoms manifested themselves on the disappearance of the

rheumatic; while those who incline to Dr. Reid's and Dr. Heberden's

opinion will observe that, after each successive phlebotomy, the

cerebral symptoms not only did not remain at the same degree, but

that they hourly went on increasing. In this dilemmatic position it is

evident that, whatever treatment might have been adopted, detractors

could not fail to have some grounds for laying the blame on the

medical attendants. The more I consider this difficult question,

however, the more I feel convinced that, whatsoever method of cure had

been adopted, there is every reason to believe that a fatal

termination was inevitable; and here I may be permitted to observe,

that it must have been the lot of every medical man to observe how

frequently the fear of death produces it, and how seldom a patient,

who persuades himself that he must die, is mistaken. The prediction of

the Scotch fortune-teller was ever present to Lord Byron, and, like an

insidious poison, destroyed that moral energy which is so useful to

keep up the patient in dangerous complaints. 'Did I not tell you,'

said he repeatedly to me, 'that I should die at thirty-seven?'

There is an entry in Millingen's 'Memoirs of Greece' which has not

received the attention it deserves--namely, a request made by Byron on the

day before his death. It is given by Millingen in the following words:

'One request let me make to you. Let not my body be hacked, or be sent to

England. Here let my bones moulder. Lay me in the first corner without

pomp or nonsense.'

After Byron's death Millingen informed Gamba of this request, but it was

thought that it would be a sacrilege to leave his remains in a place

'where they might some day become the sport of insulting barbarians.'

INDEX

Adam, Sir F., High Commissioner of the Ionian islands:

his tribute to Byron's character, 202

Agraffa, the scene of Cariascachi's depredations, 162

Allegra, Byron's natural daughter:

her life and death, 22;

Byron's feelings for, 35

Americans, Byron on, 131

Anatoliko, Turkish abandonment of, 68

Argostoli, Byron arrives at, 63

_Astarte_, by Earl of Lovelace. See Lovelace

_Augusta, Stanzas and Epistle to_, 290, 324, 364

Barnard, Lady Anne, on Byron's married life, 329 _et seq._

Beecher Stowe scandals, 318, 326

Bentham, Jeremy, and Byron, 108 _et seq._, 119;

amusing anecdote about, 126 _et seq._

Berry, Messrs., Byron's wine merchants:

_Bible, The_, Scott's lines on, 73

_Blackwood's Magazine_ on Byron, 50, 100, 315, 316

Blaquière, Captain, 48;

sails for England, 64;

describes the return of Hatajè to her parents, 137;

eulogy on Byron, 176, 177, 199 _et seq._

Blessington, Lady, _Conversations of Lord Byron_:

describes Byron, 5, 6;

character and reminiscences of Byron, 34 _et seq._, 40, 41

_Bolivar, The_, Byron's yacht, sold to Lord Blessington, 32;

her end, 33

Botzari, Marco, 48;

his death, 66

Bowring, Mr., hon. secretary to the Greek Committee, 126

_Bride of Abydos, The_:

what the poem reveals, 240, 259, 260, 262, 265

Brougham, Mr., spreads the scandal, 340

Broughton, Lord (see Hobhouse, John Cam), _Recollections of a Long

Life_, 201, 247 n., 339 n., 340 n., 359 n.

Browne, Hamilton, goes with Byron to Greece, 47, 48;

Byron's illness, 62;

arrives at Cephalonia, 67

Bruno, Dr., travels with Byron to Greece, 47, 48;

Byron's illness, 59, 62;

medical discussions with Dr. Stravolemo, 79;

his medical treatment of Byron, 124, 163, 166, 168, 169, 193 _et

seq._;

accompanies Byron's body to England, 202;

reply to Fletcher's statement, 403 _et seq._;

Dr. Millingen on, 405 _et seq._

Brydges, Sir Egerton, 291

Burdett, Sir Francis, 11, 208

Byron, George Gordon (sixth Lord):

arrival and habits of life at Pisa, 3, 11, 20-22;

personal appearance, 4-7;

evidence as to his lameness, 7, 8, 191;

portraits of, 9, 10;

inherits the Noel property on death of Lady Noel, 10, 11;

the society and influence of the Shelleys, 11 _et seq._;

discussion on the most perfect ode produced, 11, 12, 58;

religion, 13 _et seq._;

habit of vaunting his vices, 17, 18, 78;

abstinence, 18;

weight register, 19;

fracas at Pisa and Montenero, 21, 22;

his natural daughter Allegra, 22 _et seq._;

effect of Allegra's death on, 24;

dealings with Leigh Hunt, 26 _et seq._;

death of Shelley and Williams, 29, 30;

refuses Shelley's legacy of £2,000, 32;

leaves Pisa with Countess Guiccioli and goes to Albaro, 32;

sells his yacht _The Bolivar_, 33;

feelings on his own position, and desire for reconciliation with his

wife, 33 _et seq._;

admiration for Sir Walter Scott and Shelley, 35;

liaison with Countess Guiccioli, 37, 379, 380;

conduct after separation from his wife, 39 _et seq._;

Lady Blessington on, 40;

anomalies, 41;

opinion of his wife, 42;

admiration for his sister, 42;

affection for his child Ada, 43;

craving for celebrity, 45;

takes up the Greek cause, 46;

travels to Greece with money, arms, and retinue, 47;

arrives at Argostoli, 47, 65;

practical sympathy, 48, 67;

an interesting interview with, 48 _et seq._;

visits the _Fountain of Arethusa_, 51-53;

attacks of illness, 51, 52, 59, 62, 63;

excursion to the _School of Homer_, 54-57;

on the _Waverley Novels_, 57;

at Vathi, 58;

admiration for Southey, Gifford, and others, 59, 60;

reception at Santa Eufemia, 60;

on actors, 61;

journey over the Black Mountain to Argostoli, 63;

action with regard to dissensions in Greece, 64 _et seq._;

resides at Metaxata, 67;

advances £4,000 to the Greeks, 67 _et seq._;

appeal to the Greek nation, 69;

motives in coming to Greece, 70, 71, 94;

discussions with Dr. Kennedy on religion, 72 _et seq._;

favourite books, 79, 82, 100;

helps to rescue workmen, 80;

sails with money from Zante for Missolonghi to join and help the

Greek fleet, 81, 82;

adventurous voyage, 83-86;

reception at Missolonghi, 88;

releases Turkish prisoners, 89, 90, 132;

preparations against Lepanto, 91;

takes 500 Suliotes into his pay, 91;

and Major Parry, 92 _et seq._, 143;

Turks blockade Missolonghi, 96;

verses on his birthday, 96;

presentiment that he would never leave Greece, and his intentions, 97;

some reminiscences of, 98 _et seq._;

wonderful memory, 102;

a popular idol in Greece, 105;

relations with Mavrocordato, 106, 116;

and Colonel Stanhope, 107 _et seq._, 120, 121, 122;

Jeremy Bentham, 108;

dealings with the press, 112, 113;

views of the politics of Greece, 114;

effective mode of reproof, 117;

on the useless supplies sent by the London Committee, 119;

abandonment of the Lepanto project, 121;

illness and feelings as to death, 122-125;

dismisses the Suliotes, 125, 142;

anecdote of _Jerry Bentham's Cruise_, 126 _et seq._;

interest in the working classes, 130;

his politics, 131;

on America, 131;

the story of Hatajè, 133 _et seq._;

Turkish brig ashore, 139;

firmness and tact in difficulties, 140, 156 _et seq._;

desertion of the English artificers, 142, 143;

improvement in his health, 144;

favourite dogs, 145, 227;

daily life, 145, 147;

the unhealthy state of Missolonghi, 146;

bodyguard, 146;

indisposition of, 148;

peasants' respect for, 149;

no desire for self-aggrandizement in Greece, 151 _et seq._;

Greek loan raised in London, 156;

receives the freedom of Missolonghi, 157;

Cariascachi's treachery, 159 _et seq._;

detailed accounts of his last illness, and death, 163 _et seq._, 192

_et seq._, 403 _et seq._;

eulogies on, 174 _et seq._, 201, 205;

Trelawny's opinion of, 178 _et seq._;

effect of his death on Greece, 183 _et seq._, 201;

the funeral oration, 185;

body conveyed to Zante, and thence to England, 198 _et seq._;

arrival of the body in England, 202-204;

character sketch by Colonel Stanhope, 205 _et seq._;

funeral procession and burial at Hucknall-Torkard, 215, 216;

what the poems reveal, 219 _et seq._;

infatuation for Mary Chaworth, 220 _et seq._;

mystery of the _Thyrza_ poems, 221 _et seq._;

romantic attachment to Edleston, 222, 223, 230, 231;

anecdote of Mary Chaworth's gift, 224;

his mother's death, 227;

on death of his friends, 227, 228;

_Childe Harold_, 233, 236, 238, 287, 363;

and the Hon. Mrs. George Lamb, 235;

disbelief in existence after death, 239, 240;

in great dejection writes _The Giaour_, _The Bride of Abydos_, and

_The Corsair_, 240, 256 _et seq._, 277, 278, 281, 303;

and Lady Webster, 240, 241, 259;

persuaded to give up going abroad, 241, 242;

what he wishes the world to believe about Mary Chaworth, 244, 245;

their meetings after her separation from her husband, 246, 258 _et

seq._;

remorse and parting, 249;

suspense and fear preceding the birth of Medora, 253, 260;

reason of separation from his wife, 255;

reproaches Mary Chaworth, 256, 257;

device for a seal, 261, 267;

remarkable letter to Moore, 266;

birth of Medora, 268;

_Lara_, 268, 271, 273;

partly the cause of the scandal about Mrs. Leigh, 270;

effect of Miss Milbanke's first refusal, 271 _et seq._;

_Harmodia_, 274, 275;

_Don Juan_, 276, 304 _et seq._;

_Hebrew Melodies_, 277;

_Herod's Lament for Mariamne_, 278;

his significant communication to his lawyer, 279;

verses to Mary Chaworth, 280, 281;

fear of disgrace, 281;

important correspondence with Murray, 282, 283;

last meeting with Mary Chaworth, 283;

how the secret was kept, 285;

verses to his sister, 286, 287;

_The Dream_, 289, 290;

_Stanzas to Augusta_, 290, 364;

_Manfred_, 291 _et seq._, 328, 364;

his treatment of the scandal, 291, 317, 320;

_The Duel_, 293, 298;

_The Lament of Tasso_, 297;

_Stanzas to the Po_, 298 _et seq._, 370;

_Last Words on Greece_, 311;

on his separation from his wife, 315 _et seq._;

Mrs. Leigh's so-called confession, 319 _et seq._, 356 _et seq._, 368;

_Epistle to Augusta_, 324;

story of his married life, 329 _et seq._;

Sir Ralph Noel requires a separation, 339;

Lady Jersey's party, 352;

parts for the last time from his sister, 352, 366, 392;

consents to separation from his wife, 352;

Lady Byron's written statement of complaints, 353;

letter to Lady Byron as to his will, 355;

Moore's life of, 365 _et seq._;

writes to Moore about the scandal, 367;

letter supposed to be written to Mary Chaworth, 368 _et seq._;

letter compared with one to his sister, 372;

writes to Lady Byron as to the memoir of his life, 382;

asks Lady Byron to make provision for Mrs. Leigh's children, 385, 388;

Goethe on, 400, 401

_Byron, Lord: Letters and Journals of_, by Rowland Prothero, 70 n., 256

n., 260 n.;

_Life of_, by Tom Moore, 365;

_Reminiscences of_, by G. Finlay, 201;

_Sketch of_, by Colonel Stanhope, 201

Byron, Captain George (afterwards seventh Lord), 337, 338

Byron, Hon. Augusta. See Leigh, Hon. Mrs. Augusta

Byron, Hon. Augusta Ada (afterwards Lady King and Countess of Lovelace),

Byron's daughter:

separation from her father, 43, 44, 288;

Hobhouse's opinion of, 206, 207;

her health, 363

Byron, Lady (formerly Miss Milbanke):

property and settlements on marriage, 10;

married life, 36, 329 _et seq._;

her husband's desire for reconciliation, 36, 46, 206;

on Byron's religion, 77, 78;

the result of first refusal of Byron, 206, 272;

_If I am not happy, it will be my own fault_, 216;

on Byron's poetry, 219;

on his indiscreet confidences, 270;

her conduct after the birth of Medora, 285, 289, 321 _et seq._;

interview with Mrs. Leigh at Reigate, 324;

Mrs. Leigh's long visit to, 336;

birth of a daughter, and her husband's treatment, 337;

steps for a separation taken, 338, 341, 351, 352, 357, 358;

her treatment of the abstracted letters, 340, 357;

attempts to extract a confession from Mrs. Leigh, 322, 324, 341, 357,

361 _et seq._;

letters to Mrs. Leigh, 342, 343, 357;

Hodgson's appeal to, 346 _et seq._;

text of the signed statement of her conduct, 353 _et seq._;

Colonel Doyle's advice, 360;

her husband's letter to Mary Chaworth, 368 _et seq._;

and the prospects of Mrs. Leigh's children, 380, 385;

confides in Mrs. Villiers, 381;

letter from Byron, 382;

the weakness of her position, 383, 384;

Cockburn's opinion of, 387;

Lord Lovelace on, 389 _et seq._

Campbell, Dr., Presbyterian divine, 55

Campbell, Thomas, _Battle of the Baltic_, 60

Cariascachi, a Greek chieftain, his treachery, 159 _et seq._

Chaworth, Mary (afterwards Mrs. John Musters):

Byron's infatuation for, and references in his poems to, 220 _et seq._;

unhappy married life and separation, 243 _et seq._;

weakness and repentance, 245 _et seq._;

breakdown of health, and reconciliation with her husband, 251;

describes her own character, 252;

birth of Medora, 254, 268;

how the secret was kept by Mrs. Leigh, 255, 285, 287, 317, 321, 362

_et seq._;

letters to Byron, 267, 368 _et seq._;

last parting with Byron, 283

_Childe Harold_, what the poem reveals, 228, 229, 232 _et seq._, 287, 363

Clairmont, Claire:

her anxiety about her daughter Allegra, 22, 23;

her conduct to Byron, 24, 25

Clare, Lord, and Byron, 208

Clermont, Mrs., 337;

her abstraction of Byron's letters, 340 _et seq._, 378

Cockburn, Sir Alexander, Lord Chief Justice, and the Byron mystery, 358;

his opinion of Lady Byron, 387

Coleridge, Ernest Hartley, on identity of Byron's infatuation, 233, 240,

260

Colocotroni, one of the turbulent capitani, 153

_Congreve rockets_, 92, 93

_Corsair, The_, what the poem reveals, 240, 262 _et seq._, 277, 279

Dacre, Lord, 11

Davies, Scrope B., 98, 352;

Byron's letter to, 227

_Don Juan_, what the poem reveals, 219, 276, 304 _et seq._

Dowden, Professor, _Life of Shelley_: on Byron, 13;

the death of Allegra, 23

Doyle, Colonel Francis:

consulted by Lady Byron as to a separation, 338;

signs Lady Byron's statement of her conduct, 355;

advises Lady Byron to obtain a confession from Mrs. Leigh, 360, 361,

397

Dragomestri, Byron's visit to, 85

_Dream, The_, what the poem reveals, 289, 290

_Duel, The_, the poem's application to Mary Chaworth, 298

Edleston, a chorister at Cambridge:

Byron saves his life and forms a romantic attachment to, 222;

his death, 230, 231

Elphinstone, Miss Mercer, and Byron, 311

Fenton, Captain, 180

Finlay, George, _History of Greece_:

the siege of Missolonghi, 70;

Byron's mode of life at Missolonghi, 98 _et seq._, 148;

on Byron, 176;

_Reminiscences of Byron_, 201;

Byron's last illness, 405

Fletcher, Byron's valet:

Byron's last ride, 164;

ignorance of the doctors, 165, 166;

Byron's last illness and death, 170, 171, 252;

his statement, 192 _et seq._;

accompanies Byron's body to England, 202;

Dr. Bruno's reply to the statement, 403 _et seq._;

Dr. Millingen's account of Byron's last illness, 405 _et seq._

_Florida_, the brig, brings the loan to Greece, and conveys back Byron's

body, 199 _et seq._

Freiber, Dr., German physician, attends Byron, 169

Gamba, Count Pietro:

on Byron's religious opinions, 16, 17;

fracas at Pisa, 20;

goes to Albaro, 32;

travels with Byron to Greece, 47, 48;

on Byron's perseverance and discernment, 65;

on Byron's favourite reading, 79;

Byron's practical sympathy, 80;

accompanies Byron to Missolonghi, 83;

taken prisoner by the Turks, 84;

release and arrival at Missolonghi, 85;

the General Assembly at Missolonghi, 88;

Byron's interview with the two privateer sailors, 91;

becomes editor of the _Greek Telegraph_, 114;

Byron's illness, 121, 143, 148, 163 _et seq._;

arrest of English officers, 157;

Byron's funeral, 184;

conveys Byron's body to Zante, 198

Gamba, Count Ruggiero, Byron's neighbour at Pisa, 3;

leaves Pisa and goes to Montenero, 21;

ordered to leave Montenero, 22;

goes to Albaro, 32;

and Byron, 212

Gamba, Teresa. See Guiccioli, Countess

Gell, Sir William, his writings, 100, 101 n.

George IV. makes 'equivocation' the fashion, 17, 18;

and Sir Walter Scott, 53

_Giaour, The_, what the poem reveals, 240, 256, 257, 265

Gifford, William, Byron's opinion of, 51, 60

Greece:

Byron sails for, 47;

state of the country and army, 64, 87 _et seq._, 118, 180;

Byron advances £4,000, 67;

Byron's appeal to the nation, 69, 70;

preparations against Lepanto, 91;

honours offered to Byron, 151, 152;

Congress at Salona, 153;

Greek loan raised in London, 156;

effect of Byron's death on, 175 _et seq._

_Greece, History of_, by G. Finlay, 70;

by Mitford, 100

_Greek Chronicle_:

Byron's support, 108;

suppression of, 112, 113

_Greek Telegraph_, 103, 113

Guiccioli, Countess, daughter of Count Ruggiero Gamba:

Byron's neighbour at Pisa, 3, 4, 20;

describes Byron, 7 _et seq._;

on the characters of Shelley and Byron, 14, 15;

on Byron's conduct towards Allegra, 23;

on Byron's religion, 74, 78;

anecdote about Mary Chaworth's ring, 224;

_Lady of the Land_, 298, 301, 370;

and Mrs. Leigh, 379

Hancock, Charles, Byron's banker, 82

Hanson, John, Byron's solicitor, 241, 345, 346

_Harmodia_, 274, 275

Hatajè, Byron's kindness to, 133 _et seq._

Hay, Captain, fracas at Pisa, 20, 21

_Hebrew Melodies_, 277

_Hercules_, the, an English brig:

Byron and his suite sail to Greece in it, 47;

Byron lives on board, 64, 65

_Herod's Lament for Mariamne_, 278

Hesketh, Mr., 158, 159

Heywood, Sergeant, consulted by Lady Byron, 338

Hobhouse, John Cam (afterwards Lord Broughton):

and Byron, 35;

persuades Byron to burn his journal, 102;

destroys one of Byron's poems, 208;

Byron's funeral, 215, 216;

and Lady Byron, 216, 320;

life-long friend of Mrs. Leigh, 319.

The weakness of Lady Byron's position is admitted by herself in a letter